


Bliss

by togetherboth



Category: Martin and Lewis (RPF)
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Idiots in Love, Intimacy, Kissing, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Sex, Teasing, Tickling, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togetherboth/pseuds/togetherboth
Summary: It finally happened.
Relationships: Jerry Lewis/Dean Martin
Comments: 37
Kudos: 79





	1. Delicious

Dean’s asleep. They just.… They just. And now Dean’s asleep. Jerry watches him across their tiny eight-bucks-a-night bed, rumpled sheets and ugly comforter all askew. Dean’s lying on his side facing him, no pillow under his head. There are no pillows on the bed at all, in fact; one way or another they all got pushed to the floor. Even the one that had been under Jerry’s hips got shoved aside eventually.

One of Dean’s hands is curled by his mouth, the other is lying palm-up in the space between them. Jerry imagines that he’s reaching out for him, maybe wanting him even in his sleep? A boy can dream. Dean’s hair is a soft black smudge against the white sheet. Bare moonlight streams in through the window and touches his cheekbone, his shoulder, the curving muscles of his arm. The rest of his body recedes into the dark. Jerry can just about make out his shadowed face, the lines of his lips blurred. Jerry thinks about Dean’s mouth. He’d tried to kiss as much as he was kissed, but he failed and fell.

There are things he knows now that he didn’t know a few hours ago: a whole undertow of things he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, or doing, or needing. He holds his hands up to the moonlight and examines them, slowly turning them over. It seems wrong that they look just the same as they did before Dean took him to bed.

He is, he notices, still shaking. 

Dean had taken each hand in turn, held it gently and kissed and kissed and kissed it till Jerry felt dizzy, his skin almost sore. Dean had kissed his awkward knuckles. He'd bitten at his fingertips, and when it made Jerry giggle he just smiled and did it more. He’d traced the creases in his palms like a treasure map, sucked the fine skin inside his wrists and licked along the blue veins there with his warm wet tongue. Now each wrist is braceleted pink. 

Jerry had wanted to say to him _wait_! Wait, you’re making a mistake; this isn’t meant for me. People don’t do things like this to me, and I can’t afford to pay it back. I don’t know how. I’m great for a backstage knee-trembler, that’s me. I’m a quick handjob in a public restroom, a joke about full lips, a last resort. I’m an unsuccessful game of kiss chase.

Jerry had kept schtum though, not wanting Dean to realise his mistake and stop. Dean had worked slowly up his arm, nuzzling and nipping. He’d given the inside of his elbow the same treatment as his wrist, making those two points glow together like twin embers. He’d nestled his lovely head into Jerry’s neck and let him play with his hair while he kissed and bit. Jerry remembers the way Dean’s stubble had rubbed his collarbones as his jaw moved, the hard bite to his shoulder. He strokes one finger along his own clavicle, a trail of tiny sparks igniting in its wake. He imagines the skin there must be blushed pink as his wrists.

Careful not to jostle the mattress and wake his partner, Jerry rolls onto his back and stretches right out, pulling as taut as he can. Like a cat he arches till his toes judder, then lets every muscle relax. His feet and his fingers roam and find wonderful cool spots in the sheets. There’s a dull ache that runs right from his inner thighs all the way up to the top of his spine. Smiling to himself he gives an indulgent little wriggle. He feels enveloped in sensation, like there isn’t a bit of him that hasn’t be thoroughly touched, and kissed, and loved. He’s exhausted, but he feels delicious. Dean has made him feel completely delicious.


	2. Sensitive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That familiar old touch-me-don’t-touch-me feeling.

The morning before it had all happened, Jerry had started the day thin-skinned and sensitive, prickling with that familiar touch-me-don’t-touch-me feeling that he knew would overwhelm him if he let it. His skin almost hurt. When he showered, he manipulated the hotel’s ancient plumbing as carefully as he could until the water was close to body temperature, so that he wouldn’t feel too assaulted when it drummed against his skin. He’d got it just right. Bliss. He’d taken a long time in the shower, getting really thoroughly clean, enjoying the steam and cocooning warmth.

Dressing in this state always required more thought than usual and he’d done it slowly, turning his undershirt inside-out in an attempt to avoid spending the day getting worn raw by seams, picking out his most comforting clothes, which wasn’t saying much. They’d just started making some real bucks, and everything he had was too new. Dean’s old shirts, hanging there in their hotel closet, had tempted him sorely. He wanted so badly to wear one, washed and worn and two sizes too big. But he hadn’t known how to ask for that. Instead he’d reluctantly pulled on one of his own scratchy new shirts, concealing the undone top button with a loose tie. The thought of walking around smelling like his friend was too much today anyway; it made him want to cry. 

He doesn’t know why he gets like this, or what brings it on. If he were a girl in this situation, he’d swathe himself in satin and fur and have only the gentlest whispers of things touching his skin. He’d buy the biggest, softest cashmere coat he could find and wear it like a cloud so no one would see he was without girdles and garters and all those other instruments of torture. He’d wear his hair long and loose like Veronica Lake, and it would protect him from the world.

But he’s a boy, of some sort anyway. He’s a boy, so he abrades himself with starch and wool and grits his teeth and clenches his fists. He feels his softness erode and his temper fray and fray and fray as it itches away to nothing.

If he hadn’t been feeling that way today then maybe he wouldn’t have shivered quite so noticeably when Dean casually touched him. It was only a friendly hand on his back after all, nothing Dean hadn’t done a million times before. But it went so deep he nearly cried out. On another day he would’ve been able to cover it up, just like he usually did. But the touch had reached so far into him that it had made his whole body jolt hard, and Dean had felt it and asked,

“Jesus Christ Jer, what was that?” 

And because this was a vulnerable, shell-free day, Jer had told him.


	3. Tumbled

Dean had tumbled them out of their clothes so swiftly and seamlessly that it felt almost like a magic trick. Jerry supposes he could’ve been jealous that Dean was so practised at it, but really he was just grateful to be rid of them; rough tweed and gaberdine, all buckles and buttons, tight and constraining, biting him. 

Dean’s skin is so soft, like warm silk.


	4. More

Dean just wanted his partner completely and utterly awash with pleasure, that’s all. Not much to ask. He had no intention of stopping until Jer was entirely consumed by it, not knowing which way was up anymore, unable to focus because every bit of his skin was singing out to be touched again. He was desperate to see how Jer looked when he was overwhelmed like that; to know what sounds he would make and how he would taste, how that body would move beneath his own. Good god, there was so much he wanted. So much they could do together. And who knows, maybe only one night to do it in. Jer might not ever ask for this from him again. A hell of a lot of people had had Dean once and only once, and that usually suited him perfectly, but this? This couldn't be more different. 

Lying flat on the mattress, Jer kept reaching up and back, trying to ground himself by grabbing the headboard; eventually Dean had held him firmly around the waist and dragged him down to the centre of the bed, where there was nothing for him to hold onto except Dean. With no way to orient himself or gain any leverage, he could only cling to Dean and let go of everything else, abandon himself to what he was feeling and just let Dean have him.

Dean had taken a long time carefully building up the sensations; stroking delicate skin, uncovering all the places that made Jer shiver and then teasing until the shivers turned into shakes. His wrists, his neck, his navel. Fingers curling in the small of his back. Layering pleasures. Kissing new territory, but always returning home to his mouth. By the time Dean slipped his hands down Jer’s sides to grip his flexing hips Jer was whining almost continuously, struggling to keep still, gasping,

“Please… please…” 

“Please what, baby? What do you need?”

Jer blinked up at him with eyes darker than Dean had ever seen them, glassy and feverish. His lips were a little swollen from kissing and he seemed to have lost the ability to speak. His body was gorgeously warm, all the places Dean had been attending to flushed and bitten rosy pink, sweat wetting his hairline into damp little spikes. Raising a hand, Dean slowly stroked it all back from his face. Jer gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes. 

It was Jer telling him how supersensitive he’d been feeling that had started all this, so Dean knew that he shouldn’t really be surprised at how responsive he was. He’d been so intrigued when Jer told him. Then the intrigue turned into burning curiosity, and the curiosity turned into desire, and when he’d started touching Jer, just to comfort, just to help, some kind of alchemy had taken place. And then they hadn’t been able to stop. 

Now Dean was starting to wonder if he was almost being cruel by taking so long, getting his boy all worked up like this without giving him any release. But then, so low he nearly missed it, Jer said,

“More.”


	5. Once

The first one happened by accident. It was just after Dean’s hands had finally strayed south and started truly feeling Jer up; squeezing his hips, parting his thighs, exploring in between his legs with big, warm hands and the softest lips. Only so kindly, though. Strokes like feathers, barely anything at all. Barely more than teasing. 

Dean was so whole-hearted, so honestly curious and indulgent, that Jerry felt like his touches had kind of an innocent quality despite their intimacy. It was a strange word to apply to Dean, but it was true. And it was really getting to him, hitting buttons he didn’t even know he had. In the end it was Dean’s wide, slightly rough palm easily stroking the whole length of his cock that undid him.

Before Jer knew what was happening the slow heat that had been building in his limbs had coalesced into something deeper and more urgent. He lost control of his hips and suddenly he was crying out, slicking Dean’s hand. It had taken Jer so much by surprise that he’d been a little shaken at first, and then embarrassed, and then his eyes had filled with tears. He’d hidden his hot face in Dean’s neck, feeling like a foolish, sticky mess. 

“Sorry, Paul. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil it. I just… I don’t know what happened,” he said, his speech a little broken as he tried to calm down. “It's not usually so. Fast.”

“Oh Jer, c’mon now, there’s no need for tears.” Dean rolled onto his back and pulled Jer close against his chest, quietly cleaning his other hand off on a remote bit of sheet. “it’s okay, don’t cry. We got all night, it doesn’t matter.”

“But,” Jer said between sniffles, “that’s just it. Here we’ve got the whole night and I spoiled it already.” He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I thought we could… together, you know?”

Dean smiled and slowly stroked his back.

“We can.”

“But I ruined it! Like a stupid kid on a hair trigger.” He buried his face in Dean’s neck again. After a few seconds he started moving his hand down Dean’s belly, reaching lower. “I can still make you feel good though, Paul. Let me make it up to you…”

“Woah, hold on there,” Dean said, taking hold of his wrist. “Wait a minute. Just… wait. What, you think you owe me one now? Is that how you think this works?”

“Well,” Jer looked up from his shoulder, utterly bewildered, “ain’t it?”

Dean raised his eyebrows at him. He kissed the inside of Jer’s wrist again before letting go. “Boy oh boy,” he said, “have you been going to bed with the wrong people.”

That made Jer laugh, but he carefully avoided Dean’s eyes as he did it.

“Let me tell you something,” said Dean, tightening the arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Making somebody do _that_ , before they meant to,” he said, gentle as anything and watching closely as the colour rose on Jer's cheeks, “like you just did,” he tipped Jer’s chin up so they could look each other in the eye, “feels incredible. To me.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He kissed Jer sweetly right on the bridge of his nose. “And while we’re about it, what’s all this ‘spoiled it’ and ‘ruined it’? Nothing’s ruined. We’ve barely started.” He ran his hand over Jer’s damp hair, trying to comfort him. Jer hummed, leaning into the movement. He was gradually managing to get his breathing back under control.

“And anyway,” said Dean, “do you really think that after all this time, after everything we’ve been through together, everything we mean to each other, you think that I finally get to have you like this and… what? You seriously think I’m only gonna make you come once? _Once_?”

Jer looked at him wide eyed, breath gone again.

“Um,” he said.

“What kinda guy d’ya take me for, Jer?” Dean said, putting on his silliest Italian accent and letting his head flop back against the mattress, feigning extravagant hurt. “You insult me. Why, if you think that then you must be crazy as everybody says you are.”

He cast a sly glance back at Jer, who was leaning up on one elbow now, grinning down at him with a mischievous gleam in his eye. _Oh boy, oh boy_ , thought Jer. _This Itralian street singer is about to get pounced on like he’s never been pounced on before._


	6. Twice

Dean began pushing inside slowly, so slowly, wanting to feel every heartbeat of it, every subtle change in Jer’s breathing. Shallow little hitches growing into deep gulps, his ribs heaving as he struggled to stay calm. Jer refused to stop kissing him through it all, until Dean began to feel like there was no real air in the world except what was breathed into his lungs by his boy. All Dean’s awareness sank into his own centre as he sank further into Jer. He felt the glow inside him expand and take over his muscles, every bit of himself working in service of his partner. Sweet Jesus, he felt so good. So strong. Jer had hitched his long legs up high around Dean’s waist, urging him closer. _Pretty words are all very well,_ he thought, _but there’s no eloquence like a heel digging into the small of your back._

They’d put a pillow under Jer’s hips to try to make it easier for him, but honestly it was getting in the way and Jer seemed to be getting fractious with anything touching him that wasn’t Dean. When Dean saw him reach down and push ineffectually at it for the third time he decided to take matters into his own hands, ripping it out from underneath them and hurling it blindly behind him. 

There was a loud, ceramic crash and the room got a little dimmer. 

Jer’s lips stretched into a smile and he breathed a low laugh directly into Dean’s mouth. Dean bit his curving lower lip, his jaw, nosed gently at his stubble and said,

“Oops.”

“So we’ll get ‘em a new lamp,” Jer said, winding his arms more tightly around Dean’s shoulders and finding his mouth again.

Dean’s instinct was always to trust his body over his brain, and just now his body was doing everything right; it knew exactly what to do, exactly what Jer would love. And Jer was right there with him, just like he always was. So responsive and so beautiful and yet somehow, at the heart of it all, still his friend. That was the most incredible part of the whole thing: feeling, despite his best efforts, known. And still wanted by this particular, extraordinary boy.

He rocked further and further into the heat of him, until Jer shifted and took him impossibly further still, panting and squirming in delight. It was so smooth, so easy. Partly, Dean thought, because the trust they had between them meant that Jer was blissfully relaxed right from the start, and partly, well. Partly because Jer had wanted the job of applying the Vaseline, and Dean had made the mistake of letting him. It had been insanely fun, sure, but they’d made one hell of a mess; he’d been almost surprised that they hadn’t slid clean off the bed as soon as they started to move together. Dean smiled to himself at the memory and watched his boy’s face change as the slow, breathless stretch turned into the satisfying ache of being so deeply and inescapably filled up.

Jer’s eyes fluttered closed. He was blushing furiously, which Dean thought was just cute as hell. Maybe Jer was still bashful at the way his body was reacting so hungrily to all this exposure and attention, even though Dean had already told him mid-kiss that it was about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He was pretty sure he was addicted to it already.

Jer looked as though all his ferocious concentration had turned inward; he was frowning as if focusing deep inside himself, though his lips were still soft and open. He gave a low moan and moved one of his hands to cover his face, then reached up and buried it in his own hair. His other hand dug sharp fingers into Dean’s back, grasping and flexing with each new sensation.

Jer started rolling his own hips as best he could, moving in counterpoint to Dean, shifting a little in exploration, almost like he was using Dean to pleasure himself. Dean could feel him trying to get what he needed; the sensation was gorgeous. All he wanted was for Jer to realise that he could reach out and take this, do whatever he liked, be as hungry as he liked and Dean would never, ever run out of love to fill him up with.

“You’re beautiful,” Dean told him before he could stop himself, kissing his open mouth. Jer tried to kiss back, but he couldn’t seem to focus any more. It looked like all his shifting around had discovered just the right angle and now his hips were moving in fretful little twitches as he tried to nudge Dean against that perfect place again. He couldn’t get any pressure behind the movement on his own though, and Dean could sense his frustration building. 

_Aw, Jer_ , he thought. _My boy needs a little help._ He held still just a while longer, then a little while longer than that, letting Jer really get himself worked up. Finally, holding that perfect angle, he loosed his own reins a bit and let his hips thrust sharply forward. 

Jer’s neck arced back and he cried out,

“Paul!”

So Dean did it again.

“Oh! Oh god,” Jer’s arms pushed out to each side, his fingers twisting in the sheet as he tensed, then stretching rigid as he opened himself up to the feeling, his voice softening, drifting, hips circling. 

“Yesss, please, Paul… oh, that’s… _ohhh_ …”

Dean felt that if Jer was still capable of forming words, then he clearly wasn't doing his job properly. He slid his forearms under Jer’s back and hooked his hands over his shoulders from beneath, pulling him down onto his cock and trapping him there. Jer was writhing in pleasure now, tears filling his eyes as Dean held him tightly in place, staying pressed up inside him and only moving in short, undulating thrusts, hitting him exactly right again and again. Dean imagined himself made from stone, barely moving except to grind into Jer perfectly and relentlessly until Jer realised there was nothing at all he could do except relinquish what little was left of his control and just _come_. Loudly and joyfully and messily. Because Dean had absolutely no intention of letting up until he did. 

Jer’s head pressed back into the mattress and he whined helplessly, his spine arching up off the bed, body starting to tremble and his hips trying desperately to move against Dean’s own in the too-tight confines he allowed them. Tension seized his body and Dean felt a deep tremor go through him. He gave a loud cry and a burst of wet heat hit Dean’s belly as he came.

“Oh, there he is.” Dean nuzzled his head against Jer’s overheated neck and whispered. “There’s my good boy.”

“Ahh!” Jer cried out again as his body gave a couple more shocky little jerks.

“So sweet for me. That’s it baby, show me. Show me how good it feels.”

Dean kept moving his hips but slower and slower, softer and softer. Anyone else, he’d be worried about overstimulating them, but this was Jer and he knew, he just knew in his heart, how alone Jer would feel if he stopped all at once. He hated even the thought of it. Jer whimpered and screwed his eyes closed, still twitching. Every movement he made just squeezed Dean tighter inside him and Dean could see the slow bolts of pleasure it sent rolling through him. From the slick he could feel spreading between their bellies there was no mistaking that Jer had come, and hard too, but it didn’t feel like he had gone completely soft yet and Dean’s instinct was telling him there was still something more to be had, something deeper. 

_Don’t you dare hurt him, Dino,_ he thought. _Don’t get so greedy for him that you go too far and hurt him. You know he’d let you._

But, well, that’s still only twice: that’s not so very many times to come, now is it? A third would surely be nice for Jer, if he’s careful. And very gentle, this last time. He knows he can be so gentle. Maybe they could share this one too, they could finish together, like Jer said he wanted. And then sleep. God, they’d sleep after that.


	7. Can I...

Jer was still holding onto him tightly, hands spread against his back, legs spread around his hips. He certainly didn’t seem to be in any rush for Dean to leave him. His compact chest was heaving as he tried to get his breath back, and Dean could feel that his body was still jolting with tiny aftershocks. Dean lifted up just a fraction so that he could look down between their bodies. That sweet little belly that he so adored was wet with come, but he was right that his boy was still, even after all of that, surprisingly hard. _Oh, youth_ , he thought wistfully. 

“Hey Jer,” he said. No response. Jer’s eyes were still closed, soft mouth open, utterly blissed out. He was lost somewhere within. Dean stroked a hand across his brow.

“Jer? Baby, look at me a second.”

“Hmmm?” His eyes fluttered open, the hazel almost drowned by his wide open pupils. When his gaze finally focused on Dean he smiled dreamily. “Paul… love you.” He sounded drunk. The declaration was nothing unusual: Jer told him he loved him every day, often multiple times. This pressure behind the need to say it back though? That was new.

“Love you too,” Dean said. It made him feel a little upset to say it, and he had to kiss Jer just to get his feet back on solid ground. Only for a moment though, despite Jer’s enthusiasm, because his own cast iron self control was beginning to melt and they really, really had to talk before he could let anything else happen. Just because he sensed that Jer would want to go again, didn’t mean that he actually did. Or should. The thought of losing control and accidentally hurting Jer was more than he could stand. He could see it, Jer’s gritted teeth. No. Revolting. Never. 

He ran one hand all the way down Jer’s side and let it rest low on his hip, stroking with his thumb to bring Jer’s attention back to where they were still joined together.

“I’ve got to let you go now, just for a little while.”

“No!”

“Jer, we need a break, then we can…”

“No, don’t! Never let me go Paul.” Jer flexed his hips just a tiny bit and ran his fingernails lightly down Dean’s back and back up. Dean bit his lip. “Stay there. Please.”

He knew it, he knew those instincts were right. It should be too much for them both to stay entwined like this. Jer surrounded and pinned, Dean still hard inside him. Too much sensation, too much closeness, too much love. But too much of anything has always been exactly the right amount for them. Why, Dean thinks, should this be any different? 

“Listen Jer, you feel… you feel so good that if we stay like this I’ll lose my mind. Okay? And if that happens right now it’ll hurt you, and I won’t do it. Can’t.” He distracted Jer with a kiss and, very slowly and gently, withdrew.

Jer pouted up at him, his arms still trying to hold him close. He looked like he might cry. “You can do it Paul, I can take it. You can do anything you want to me and I can take it.”

There’s a terrifying sentence if ever Dean heard one. He didn’t have enough braincells still firing right then to persuade Jer that allowing someone to hurt you in a way you don’t specifically want is not a good thing. Easier to distract him instead, have some fun and worry about the heavy stuff later. He lowered his voice,

“I can do anything I want?”

Jer nodded emphatically. Jesus, Dean really was going to have to have a talk with him about this. But later. Right then he had an idea, something that’d keep Jer happy while buying himself a little cooling-off time. He put his mouth right next to Jer’s ear and said, with more breath than sound,

“Anything?”

Jer’s eyes widened but he kept his gaze on Dean and nodded again. 

“Anything, Paul,” he said earnestly. 

“You’re sure?”

“Promise.”

Dean squeezed closer still. He left a significant pause and then, with his lips brushing the shell of Jer’s ear, breathed,

“Can I take you out for breakfast in the morning?”

Jer’s face snapped around to look at him, startled for exactly one second before he started giggling. _Oh,_ thought Dean. _Oh, that’s what I wanted. That’s beautiful._

“Yes, you can!” Jer said, delighted. “But only if you buy me a donut.”

“One donut, alrighty, I’ll make a note of that.” Dean grabbed an imaginary pen and paper, mimed carefully writing it down and them mimed throwing it over his shoulder.

“Okay,” he continued, getting comfortable, “can I… kiss you right there, no, not there, right here,” he indicated with a gentle sweep of his thumb, “between your eyebrows?”

“Yes,” Jer beamed up at him. So Dean leaned forward and obliged, twice.

“Mmm, nice,” he said. “So, tell me Mr Loomis, can I… tickle you?”

“NO!” Jer instantly crossed his arms over as much of his body as he could cover. _Well that’s like a red rag to a bull,_ thought Dean. _He should really know better than that._

“You said I could do anything, Jer! Why not?”

“You know why! I’m too ticklish is why. Don’t!” Dean had only given his waist a tiny pinch, but it had made Jer jack-knife away from him with a shriek. “You’ll be disqualified, Dean Martin.”

“I remember tickling you onstage at the Five Jer, you remember that?”

“Yes I remember that! That’s why you’re not allowed to do it no more!”

“We ended up on the floor.” He smiles at the memory, but lets it turn a little evil when he looks at Jer.

“That part wasn’t the problem, buddy. As well you know.”

“Aw, Jer. No one saw.”

“Oh yeah, sure, no one saw, right. Except for the emcee and half the band, no one saw.” 

“How was I supposed to know tickling gets you all het up?”

“When you felt it against your leg you should’ve known! That’s how!”

Dean rolled over onto his back and laughed. Jer dropped the indignant schtick and gave a little laugh himself, and a sigh.

“So, you should let me tickle you now.” Dean said, turning his face towards Jer. “You’re already het up, what difference does it make?”

Jer just looked at him for a couple seconds, like he was considering his answer, then said, “Because if you start doing that now, it’ll be the end of me. And you already got me off twice all by myself, and I want the next one to be with you.” He smiled at Dean a bit ruefully. “Silly, isn’t it?” 

“No,” Dean said quietly, meeting his eyes. “I don’t think that’s silly at all.”


	8. Can you...

Jer lay on his back, panting from laughing so much. Dean’s wants had been getting both sillier and hotter, and Jerry was swiftly discovering his partner’s killer instinct for finding all his sweet spots, including some he hadn’t even known he had. If a fella’s never had his tummy kissed before, how’s he supposed to know it’s going to make him want to start purring?

He hadn’t said no very often but when he had, Dean had been respectful without making a big deal out of it. Like when Dean had asked to bite his toes, for instance. Self-conscious about his bony feet, Jer really didn’t want him to and when he sheepishly said so Dean just grinned and replied, 

“Okay, you wanna bite mine?” And before he knew what was happening there was a big, dumb Italian foot in his face, and then they were wrestling and laughing and insulting each other again. That’s when Dean fell off the bed, which was funny enough in its own right, but it was when he said _scusi_ to the floor that Jer really lost it.

He was smart enough to know that his partner was trying to tell him something here, in his own patient, slightly clumsy, very Deanish way. He knew that Dean wanted him to understand that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to. And he appreciated that, he truly did. But, there was kind of a problem, because Dean was being so sweet and was touching him so beautifully that Jer was slowly being reduced to a tingling mess of giggles and yearning. Dean was making him feel so safe and honestly so goddamn fuckable that it was surely only a matter of time before Jer would crawl into his lap and start begging. And he wasn’t sure how well that would sit with the point Dean was trying to make. 

Another new thing Jer was learning about his partner was his almost superhuman capacity for having a hard-on without any of the sense of urgency that usually goes along with it. He’d never known anyone so content to just lazily fool around in that state, with no apparent rush to get to the main event. He liked it a lot, and he was really getting kind of used to the slow burn of his own desire, like embers in the pit of his stomach, their flames just barely licking at the base of his spine. It was just as well that he was getting used to it, because Dean kept finding new ways of stoking him with lovely sensations, ratcheting things up just the tiniest bit at a time. Jer was starting to feel like sooner or later he’d spontaneously combust, just quietly burst into flame right there on the mattress.

“Can I…” Dean said, and looked up from where he was lazily drawing fingertip patterns on Jer’s furry chest, “rub your head?”

“Which one?”

“Ha! This one,” Dean said, and planted his hand right on top of Jer’s skull. He let his thumb scritch gently along his hairline while he waited for permission.

“I don’t know why I clarified, the answer was yes either way.”

“Well, good,” said Dean, pressing down with his strong fingers and beginning to rub firm circles over Jer’s velvety head, sending lovely, glimmering shivers all over his scalp and down the back of his neck. Jer closed his eyes and gave one of what Dean always called his ‘showgirl smiles’, all teeth and tits, with cute, squinched shoulders. He felt like he might start purring again.

“Oh, you like that one huh?”

“It’s giving me the tingles, Paul.”

“Hmm, good.”

“And it feels like, it kinda feels like if you washed my hair for me, it would feel like this.”

“Oh, really? If I washed your hair for you, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that’s something you might like a little bit, you suppose?”

“I guess maybe I would Paul, yes.” Jer nodded sweetly and sincerely, like a very good boy. Then ruined it by grinning at Dean with absolute wickedness. “You want to take a bath with me later?”

“Well sure I would, if we had a bathtub.”

“Oh. Yeah. Dammit. Maybe the next place? That’s got to be worth an extra couple dollars, right Paul?”

“Got to be,” said Dean. “In the meantime, we’ll have to make do with with that godawful shower down the hall.” Dean moved his hand from Jer’s head to his neck, then slowly stroked his fingers right down his chest to his belly. “Think it might be fun to get you a little messier first, though,” he said, and gave Jer’s cock a single, feather-light caress, stealing a sharp gasp from him, before slowly making his way back up; hips, ribs, shoulders. Neck. He slipped his hand underneath and began massaging Jer’s nape, while Jer blinked up at him, not quite knowing what had just hit him. He must’ve looked pretty damn cute, because that was when Dean asked,

“Can I… kiss you four, no, five times?”

“O-only five?”

“Only five in a row.”

“Okay.”

Dean lowered his head and kissed him, soft but lush, squeezing the back of his neck a little and changing the angle of his head ever so slightly each time. He lingered so long on the last one that Jer had time to push both hands up into his hair and get them nicely tangled.

Dean pulled back slowly, looking a little dazzled himself.

“Can I…” He paused a little longer than usual, considering. Then he grinned. “Can I call up everybody we know… and I mean everybody… and tell them about that noise you made before?” 

Jer pretended to look scandalised. “What noise, when?”

“The second one, just before you went off like a rocket. I’m pretty proud of it. It was sorta like a whimper but hooo, boy.”

Jer covered his face with his hands, blushing.

“I think you blasphemed again too.” Dean added, helpfully.

“Aww, did I offend you, bubbe?” Jer said through his fingers.

“Not me. The neighbours, maybe they were offended though. The old guy downstairs on the desk, I don’t know what he thought about it. Maybe later I’ll ask him.”

Jerry whacked him on the arm to shut him up. “It was kind of loud, huh?”

“It was kind of loud. I liked it though. I like making you loud.” Dean kissed his nose.

“Really? You don’t want I should be quiet?”

“Nope. No, not at all.” Dean said softly.

“Oh, really? Okay,” Jer said, all innocence. Then: “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” he screeched at the top of his lungs, “MY PARTNER DEAN MARTIN HAS THE BEST - mpff!” Dean clapped both hands over his mouth.

“Jer!”

Jer grabbed Dean’s wrists and peeled his hands away from his face. “You said…”

“On purpose doesn’t count!” 

“Oh, oh, on purpose doesn’t count, okay. Now he tells me.” He grinned at Dean and squeezed his fingers tighter where they were wrapped around Dean’s thick wrists, feeling the way Dean was letting him have his hold even though he could have broken it within a second.

“Little monkey,” said Dean, with such affection Jer could hardly believe it.

Something about the tone of it made Jer want to push him a little, be a demanding little monkey, a tiny bit spoiled. Just to see if Dean would indulge him. It was so lovely, Dean asking for things and just being able to say yes, yes, yes. Yes, you can have that bubbe, yes, that’s allowed. So much yes, it was beautiful. Even the few noes, Dean found ways of changing his requests into something Jer would like better, or making him laugh or touching him in some other way that would get him feeling shivery and wanted. It felt like Dean had been building some kind of charge up inside him, and now he only had to touch and soft little electrical pulses would ripple over his skin.

Jer was starting to wonder, if there were other things he wanted, other little things Dean could do for him, well. He was starting to wonder if maybe it would be okay to just ask for those things. Maybe. He had an idea. Or, not even an idea exactly. More of an impulse.

“Hey, Paul?” He said. A little note of wariness had crept into his voice, but he kept going.

“Yes Jer?”

“You know that noise you said I made earlier? The one you liked?”

“Yes Jer,” Dean said again. He dipped his head and kissed the back of Jer’s hand where it was still wrapped around his wrist. “What about it?”

“It's just that actually I, uh, I don’t remember it. I don’t know which noise you meant.”

Dean looked down at him, a little puzzled. “You don’t?”

“No, no. I think maybe, and I’m sorry about this, I really am, but I think maybe you’re going to see if you can make me do it all over again.”

He bit his lip and glanced down at his own hands around Dean’s wrists. When he looked back up, he wasn’t quite prepared for the breathtaking smile he found there waiting for him.

"Can you... make me do it again?" said Jer.

"Well," said Dean. "Let's see, shall we?"


	9. Melted

From his position flat on his back Jer reached up and stroked the side of Dean’s face.

“I want to put the stuff on,” he said.

“Are you sure you need more, baby? So wet from last time, still.”

“Oh, god,” Jer shivered. “Not me, you. On your f-fingers.”

Dean knew Jer liked his hands, though god only knows why. For himself, he thought they were just about the ugliest hams he’d ever seen, but there’s no accounting for taste. Clearly Jer saw something there that Dean didn’t see himself, or else he wouldn’t have asked for what he’d asked for.

“Okay,” said Dean. He stretched over to the nightstand and grabbed the half-empty tub of Vaseline. Balancing it on Jer’s furry little chest, he proffered his left hand, laughing when Jer seized it and started peppering the back with tiny kisses.

“Crazy boy,” he said, moving a little to touch Jer’s cheek with his knuckles. Jer just kissed them too, then hooked their arms together to keep hold of Dean as he dipped his own fingers into the small glass jar. Propping his head up on his bent right arm, Dean watched Jer’s face closely as he studiously applied the Vaseline first to his index, and then to his middle fingers, carefully coating every surface right down to his knuckles, letting his own slender fingers slip in between Dean’s as the paste softened and melted with the heat of their skin. He finished by taking the tip of Dean’s thumb into his mouth and softly sucking the pad before releasing him.

“There.” Jer said, and looked up at Dean so adoringly that Dean felt his heart skip a beat, just like in all the songs. He couldn’t say he particularly liked the feeling, but there it was. Far too late to start denying it now, vulnerable as it made him feel. Not too late for a little distraction though; something fun to keep the focus on Jer and not himself.

Whenever Jer did something lovely that made his heart pound like that, a great wave of feeling would swell up inside Dean and threaten to overwhelm him. The means of coping he’d developed to save himself when that happened was, well, to do something, anything to disrupt it. Preferably something to nicely startle Jer. That was always best. Hug him, grab him, goose him, lick his neck, tap his shoulder for a scriptless kiss. Something, anything.

Today, he decided that the thing to do would be to burrow his other hand underneath Jer, hold him tight, and then twist so that they ended up with Dean on his back holding a surprised-looking Jer spreadeagled on top of him. Dean held Jer tightly in his arms, stroking his back while he made himself comfortable. He tucked his arms in close against Dean’s chest and Dean could feel his pulse, the press and release of his breaths, the dig of his ribs. Muscles melted with the heat of their skin. Jer let his thighs, relaxed and loose, fall open on either side of Dean’s.

Dean was right: Jer was still so wet from before that when he reached down his fingers sank in easily, barely needing to move except to rub comfortingly against the silk inside him. This might’ve been Jer’s idea but Dean figured that it suited him perfectly too, being able to take care of Jer like this without the distraction of his own pleasure. That could wait. Just now, all he really wanted to do was get to know his friend’s body, to learn how to touch him just right and make him happy. Just to be close, to love him properly. To tell him with his hands all the things for which he couldn’t find the words.

He moved close to that luminous place inside, but was careful not to actually touch him there. He didn’t think his boy wanted that kind of intensity just now. Benefits of control, see? Well, that and a certain amount of dexterity. Never let it be said that Dino Crocetti - dealer, card sharp, petty thief - doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Feels good?” He whispered, gently crooking his fingers.

“Mmmm,” Jer closed his eyes, looking soft and blissful. “So nice,” he sighed. He lifted one hand to play idly with Dean’s hair, ducking his face into the curve of his neck. Dean cupped the back of Jer’s skull with his free hand, turned his head and began kissing and nuzzling behind his ear. He felt the squeeze and shift as Jer stretched his spine out luxuriously, canting his hips further back and wriggling a little to get comfortable. So brazen, this boy, when he was wanting. Dean rewarded him with a deeper push of his fingers, and Jer gave a little mewl and set teeth to his shoulder.

“Jer?” Dean whispered.

“Mmm?” Jer's breathing had slowed right down; deep, calm breaths in time with the rhythm of Dean’s fingers.

“Can’t wait to have you again.”

“You want me?” Jer whispered back.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Okay,” he breathed, “but I want more kisses.” His hand moved to the back of Dean’s neck, stroking his nape. His dark eyes glittered, locked on Dean’s mouth. “Please.”


	10. Goof

“More kisses?”

“Mm-hmm,” said Jer. His fingertips traced very gently over Dean's lips; he brushed his tongue out to meet them and the taste of salt flooded his mouth. “I would like more kisses, please.”

“Alright.” Dean said. He lifted his head up a little, but stopped just short of Jer’s lips, so close their noses nearly brushed. He let his gaze linger over Jer’s face, his jaw, his collarbones. Finally he met his eyes again. “Do you want to be a good boy and tell me where you want the first one?” 

Jer inhaled to speak just a little bit too quickly, so Dean swiftly muzzled him with one hand and added,

“And if you say to me: ‘well Paul, I want it right here in the bedroom’, then so help me God I’m pulling out.”

Jer’s eyes were twinkling like crazy as Dean lifted his hand away. 

“That’s just what I _was_ gonna say!” He grinned down at Dean, and Dean let his head flop back onto the mattress.

“You really know how to ruin a moment Jer, anyone ever tell you that?”

“It’s a talent! I’m a very talented boy.” Jer gave a little giggle, but his face changed to shock almost immediately. 

“Oh! Oh god, no. Don’t make me laugh while you’re in there!” He ducked his head down, giggling and hiding his face against Dean’s collarbone. “Oh! Ha!” 

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, not even remotely sorry. “Sorry baby, sorry. I won’t do it again.” He gave Jer a second to think he was safe. “You mean here?” He said, and gently pulsed his fingers.

“AH, Paul!” Jer shrieked, outraged and then finding his own outrage hilarious. That was all it took to set Dean off too. As their giggling intensified so did Jer’s blissful little noises, which made the giggling even worse, which just increased the pleasure until poor Jer was caught in a ridiculous feedback loop of laughing and squirming and getting more and more helplessly turned on. 

Dean was delighted just watching him, even though the sensation of Jer wriggling around so happily on top of him was making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool. The need for him was starting to build and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back very much longer, but a brilliant idea was starting to take shape in his mind. A brilliant, gorgeous idea to make things much, much worse for this poor boy.

He let his fingers slip free and, before Jer could complain, he settled his hands on Jer’s innocent, undefended ribs. Dean took a breath and reflected for a second on whether this was just a little too mean. He didn’t really think it was mean. Was it mean? Jer had said no before, but the situation now was very, very different. _No,_ he decided. _Not mean. Fun._

Conscience clear, he let his fingers begin to pinch and skitter and tickle all along Jer’s sides, making him laugh and squirm even harder than before, struggling to even breathe under Dean’s assault until he managed to get away by rolling off Dean to the side and landing with a bounce on the mattress, but Dean seized the opportunity to grab Jer around the waist and drag him back, flipping them over so that Dean was back on top of his breathless partner despite the fact that he was still shrieking and giggling and trying to curl up into a ball, so Dean held him down and tickled deep into the dip of his waist, along his bony hip, around to the small of his back even, before coming back up to his ribs and starting all over again.

“AH! No fair! Paul, that’s not…ah!… _fair_ , that’s not fair! Oh _god_ …”

All the excitement had gotten Jer hard as a rock, and now his hips started rhythmically pushing against Dean, seemingly without his even being fully aware of it, what few inhibitions he still had left evaporating completely. _Good_ , thought Dean. Their horseplay had pushed them further up the bed towards the headboard, although Jer didn’t seem to have realised it yet and had gone from trying to escape to trying to cling onto Dean just as hard as ever.

Somewhere in the chaos Dean managed to get his knees under himself, allowing him to move much more freely. Now, he sat back on his heels, reached down and, before Jer knew what was happening, shoved both arms underneath and scooped him up, depositing him on his lap in a loose-limbed straddle. God, but he loved manhandling Jer. And he was sure Jer loved it too otherwise Dean wouldn’t do it, he really wouldn’t. The temptation would still be there, but he’d resist it, for Jer. 

The wonderful thing about his partner was that he was light but really limber, so Dean could do pretty much whatever he liked with him with very minimal effort. Dean knew he was a pretty strong guy, kind of took pride in it if he was really honest with himself, but dear lord, Jer made it something beyond easy to indulge in his strength.

Dean got them situated so that Jer was effectively sitting on his thighs, then with gentle hands on his chest he eased the rest of his body back. Jer put his arms out behind him, letting Dean guide him down, “like this, bubbe?”, as he draped himself onto the mattress, leaving his pelvis cradled in Dean’s lap. Dean swept both hands warm and slow all the way down the front of Jer’s body until they came to rest on his sweet little hips, now tilted at the most delicious angle.

“You’re pretty bendy, right Jer?”

“Bendiest boy on the east coast, that’s me. I think I got… woah!””

Dean let go of Jer’s hips just long enough to sling one of his long legs over each shoulder and then lean forward a little, like he was about to fold Jer almost in half.

“Oh! Like a rag doll I am to you, Dean Martin!”

Dean stopped in his tracks, genuinely mortified this time, one hand reaching back to caress Jer’s calf. “God, I’m so sorry baby, did I hurt you?”

“Nah, I love it,” Jer grinned up at him, arms laid decadently back above his head. “don’t stop. Throw me around some more.”

“Don’t do that Jer, you scared me!” He gripped the skinny body in his lap with one hand and with the other gave a quick smack to the side of Jer’s butt. It wasn’t a hard smack at all, but maybe a little sharp, and certainly unexpected. Jer gasped loudly and his cock gave the most definite twitch that Dean had ever seen in his entire life. He knew they could do that, of course he did, but that much? It was like a fucking cartoon! A really obscene cartoon, but still. Wow.

Jer saw it too, covered his face with both hands and gave in to a fit of the giggles so enormous he nearly slid off Dean’s lap. He uncovered his face for a second, just long enough to say “down boy!” to his own dick before being overcome again.

 _Oh God, he’s perfect_ , Dean thought. He’d been to bed with a hell of a lot of people in his time, but he couldn’t remember ever having this much fucking fun. Or this much fun fucking. (He’ll try to remember that line to tell Jer later, he’ll like it.) _Oh god, this is absurd_. He loves it. He loves him.

He hauled Jer’s hips back into his lap and started pretending like he was searching for something in the vicinity of his groin, moving his head around it, then looking over at the window, the dresser.

“What are you _doing_?” Jer said, starting to recover.

“Looking for the string that just got tugged.”

Jer threw his head back and laughed again, then looked up at Dean with his eyes sparkling. “You know, people think you’re suave but I got your number, boy! You’re a goof! Biggest goof under the sun.”

“Number one goof, huh? Well, that’s an achievement I guess. Kinda handsome with it though, hm?”

“Handsomest goof I ever saw in my life,” Jer said, smiling and covering Dean’s hands with his own.


	11. Quiet

They calmed right down after that, went quiet. Jer gave up control of his hips to Dean’s big, capable hands. Let him pull him down slowly onto his cock, move him however he pleased. He was being so gentle, but there was nothing he could do to soothe the intensity of the reaction Jer felt inside. He might've looked serene, but it was his Paul doing this to him, so how could his heart be calm? He felt like a lit fuse.

And it hurt, if he was honest. He was sore, and his muscles were taut and aching, and it did hurt. But it felt so good to feel this much. He could feel Dean deep down in his bones. And there was purity in the hurting, just the same as there was purity in the pleasure. And he needed to grind that yearning for Dean out of himself, to meet it and confront it and fill it up, if he was ever to stand a chance of feeling whole. And this desire seemed to him like the kind of itch that _has_ to be scratched until it hurts, otherwise you would’ve been better off never to have started scratching at all.

Jer looked up over his head and saw his own knuckles white around the bars of the headboard. Dean had made him fall to pieces twice now and was bringing him damn close to a third, whereas Jer hadn’t even managed to return the favour once yet. It wasn’t fair. He _had_ to make Dean lose control at least a little bit, he just had to. Dean was probably holding back on purpose, plus he seemed to know by instinct exactly which thread to pull to make Jer’s defences unravel completely. Jer didn’t stand a chance

His body felt like it was burning up. The delicious stretch of his spine, the tension in his arms as he braced them against the headboard: all burning. He could feel Dean’s eyes on him and dear God, there was such heat in that too. He loved having every bit of Dean’s attention like this; that alone could probably get him off without even being touched. But his generous heart needed more, more than being wanted and pleasured and taken; he needed to give something back to Dean. He couldn’t even kiss him like this. Couldn’t wrap his arms around and hold him, knot his fingers in those black curls. It seemed crazy, but he wanted to say to Dean _, come here, you’re not close enough. How can it be that you’re inside me but I miss you?_

Okay, so he couldn’t touch Dean like he wanted to but maybe, maybe, he could still let him know how good he felt. Maybe if Dean could see that, then it would get to him to cut loose a little bit, and then Jer would finally get to see him come just a fraction undone.

He let his head roll to one side, exposing the long sweep of his neck. He bit his lip and allowed a low moan to escape as he wriggled a little, feeling Dean’s hands grip him just a fraction tighter. He kept going, getting louder, moving more, throwing out a few flattering, bitten off sentences, “so good”, “so big”. Giving the performance of his life. Because Dean just had to know what it meant to him, he just _had_ to understand…

“Oh Jer, come on now. Stop that,” Dean said softly. He leaned down until he was very close, gently pinching Jer’s lower lip and releasing it from between his teeth. “It’s me, baby. You don’t have to do that stuff with me. Just tell me how it really feels.”

Jer stared up at him, speechless. He didn’t think he could. He didn’t think there _were_ words for that, in any language. He would try, though. He wanted to give Dean absolutely everything he could, and this was what Dean had asked for, so. He shifted a little, closed his eyes, and tried to find the feeling. In his imagination, he tried to hold the feeling in his hands so that he could describe it. When he opened his eyes again they were glittering with tears; he gave Dean a sweet, full smile and shook his head.

“No?” Dean touched warm fingertips to the side of Jer’s face, thumbed his tears away. Jer sighed, settling into his silence, gazing straight into Dean’s eyes. He reached up and started stroking his hair. _It’s everything_ , he tired to communicate. _It’s too much to say. It’s just everything._

“Did I finally find a way to quiet you down?”

Jer nodded.

“Maybe for a little while, huh.” Dean said thoughtfully, stroking across Jer’s brow. “Well that’s okay baby, you don’t have to say a thing. Doesn’t make a bit of difference. Already want you something fierce.”

Jer smiled up at him, full of love. So much for giving something back to Dean. But then,

“Come here,” Dean added, slipping both hands under Jer’s back and beginning to lift him up off the mattress. “Come up here, with me. You’re not close enough.”


	12. 3am

Jer was asleep. As Dean watched his face, so soft and tender while he was sleeping, he thought that if anyone ever laid so much as a single finger on him Dean wouldn’t hesitate for one second. He’d break them in half and spit on the pieces. That was nothing new though, that thought.

Dean hadn’t slept yet. He lay on his side facing Jer, his gaze falling the bite mark he’d left on his boy’s shoulder. Hypocrite. It mortified him. He prayed to every Saint he could think of that it wouldn’t turn into a bruise. The blasphemous nature of that impulse was not lost on him, but what the hell. He’s a contradictory kind of a guy.

He hadn’t meant to bite down like that, and the thought that he might have genuinely hurt Jer was more than he could bear to think about. Not that Jer seemed to be anything other than thrilled about it. Before Jer had finally passed out, his fingers had strayed to his own shoulder and touched the bite like he wanted to remind himself it was there. Dean had caught his fingers in his own, kissed them, moved them away, kissed the wound. 

It was nice to be quiet now, Dean thought. He let his mind wander through everything they’d just done together. He thought about his hands on Jer's hips when he'd held him and and laid him out on the bed. Even though he'd looked so beautiful all spread out for him like that, once he was inside he’d pulled him up into his lap purely on instinct. Wanting to be close, sensing in Jer the need to be desired and comforted both. Having him there just felt right. He could feel Jer’s narrow chest against his own, all soft and ticklish. The warm gold around his neck just perfect to tangle in Dean’s fingers.

Once he was up there gravity became their friend, pressing him down onto Dean like that was exactly where the universe wanted them to be. And the pulse had taken over then, the rhythm of it like the bass notes on a piano while their hands and their mouths played the melody. They’d moved together, thunderous and perfect. Half Dean’s thoughts had stayed on how to get Jer off as hard as possible, while the other half soared, wanting to let go, wondering if he should, wondering if he was allowed, if he was worthy. He was on the verge of concluding that no, he wasn’t when Jer had moved impossibly closer still, twining necks, warm breath in his ear, saying,

“You. Only you, only you, only you… my Dino.”

And that had ended him. 

Dino. 

Jer never called him Dino, only ever called him Paul or Dean. Paul was Jer’s special person, his pedestal occupant, his hero, his idol. Jer loved Paul, even though Paul didn’t exist. Dino existed. Dino was a petty criminal from Ohio with a pile of debt and a half decent voice. Dino was poor and unstable and frightened a lot of the time. And Dino had spent years desperately, heartbreakingly in love with a skinny Jewish boy from Newark, with a goofy sense of humour and a generous heart. And this was the very first time Dino had realised that this boy, his love, truly loved him too.

Like Jer always said: _I couldn’t love you if you didn’t love me_. All this time, Dean had thought he was just talking about Paul.

And when Dean’s body had stuttered in shock, Jer took over then, moving his hips, stroking with his willowy hands, gasping and whispering, and Dean felt like he was being given a gift. It was as if, and dear God it made him feel so vulnerable he could barely even bring himself to think it but, it was as if he was being made love to. For the very first time in his wretched goddamn life. By which he meant ‘made love to’ in the earthy sense of course, in the sense of fucking, sure. But also in that sense that they mean in all the songs he knew by heart: with words and gifts, and kisses that feel like gifts, and all the rest of it. And Jer’s presence in his lap felt like doves and roses and, Jesus, it felt like other things too, things like rings and bells that Dean didn’t even want to think about. 

And suddenly the boy in his arms, who was the boy in his heart, changed his chant from _you, you, you, only you_ to _me, me, stay with me, take me, love me, I’m yours, all yours Dino, I’m yours_ , and Dean felt the you and the me mix together and thought, _well okay, if you’re mine I’m yours then we’ll be alright for sure and oh, I need you, boy._

And he quickened his hips and gravity surely was their very best friend as they ground together and the song became a symphony and suddenly it was too much it was all too much with the sensitive skin and the aching and the soft undershirt inside out and the kisses and the tears and the tight breathless fit of them and the talking and the tickling and the laughing, oh dear God the laughing, and the strong skinny body undulating in his arms that was his, all his and he couldn’t hold on any more because his best friend in all the world was offering him the gift of release and he couldn’t cry out he just couldn’t no matter how wonderful it felt he couldn’t risk breaking the spell so he bit down hard on the voluptuous shoulder in front of him and his boy smelled so delicious and he tasted like work and sex and pure heat and it was so so familiar and Dean convulsed into him and accepted the gift Jer had given him of love and of life and of everything else.

When it was over, Jer had said, “Shh, baby” and Dean had wiped his eyes and said “But you’re ‘baby’” and Jer said “Oh yeah, I musta thought I was you” and Dean felt drunk. He’d laid Jer down so sweet and kindly back on the bed like a precious thing. He’d covered him gently with the comforter all askew and moved his boy’s hand away from the mark of his teeth when he touched it. Kissed the fingers, kissed the wound. He’d laid down on his side and watched him drift off, poor boy, all worked over and glowing, come three times and kissed and bitten all to heaven. Dean couldn’t help but feel like he’d ravaged him, and there was guilt in that of course but there was joy too. Boundless and unbounded joy in savaging his love with love.

Dean lay awake near him and guarded him while he slept, keeping watch for who even knows what invisible enemy and at the same time feeling the kind of happiness that made him want to go outside and howl at the moon.

Jer stirred a little in his sleep, turned his head and pressed his shoulders back into the mattress, moved a little and moaned, said “Dino”, said “yes”. Jer’s eyebrows met in a sweet little knot, so Dino stroked it with his thumb and said,

“Shh, Jer. Shhh. You’re dreaming out loud.”

Jer’s eyes fluttered, open but unseeing, “I am?”

“Sure. It’s okay baby, just let me know when you’re finished so I can go to sleep.”

Jer laughed softly, eyes already drifted closed. “Silly,” he said. He reached out blindly, somehow finding Dino’s hand and holding it. “My pal,” he whispered. “My Dino.”


	13. 5am

Dean stirs quietly in his sleep. _Dammit,_ Jer thinks. _Did I wake him after all?_ The hand that’s been lying stretched out towards Jerry closes on nothing, then slowly opens up. Jer slides down in the bed a little until his head is level with Dean’s. He lies very still, considering Dean’s lovely sleeping face for a moment. Holding his breath, he reaches out and slips his fingers tentatively across Dean’s palm. Dean’s strong shoulders tense, then relax on a sigh. His hand closes around Jer’s, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face. Jerry’s so relieved he thinks he might cry.

Slowly Dean’s eyes drift open, and he and Jer regard each other for a few silent seconds. Not breaking eye contact, Dean draws their linked hands to his mouth and kisses Jer’s knuckles. Then he lifts up and drags himself closer to kiss his mouth. It’s long, and slow, and by the end of it Jer knows for sure that his heart truly is Dean’s for the crushing, and has been for a very long time. They settle and lie close, Jer on his front and Dean on his back, faces tipped together. Jer feels like he’s floating, despite his sore muscles and aching spine.

“Paul,” he reaches over and touches Dean’s neck lazily with the backs of his fingers.

“Jer,” Dean replies, just barely touching Jer’s nose as he says it. He frowns slightly as his hand falls gently to the bite mark on Jer’s shoulder, which has definitely turned into a bruise. Jer looks at Dean looking at him. He knows his skin is still flushed pink in certain places where Dean maybe got a little carried away: his collarbones, his wrists. He knows Dean can’t even see the few pink patches on his tummy where kisses turned to soft sucks. He loves them all.

Dean doesn’t quite see it like that, apparently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You look like someone, ah, really worked you over. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not even a little bit.” Jer says, and it doesn’t even feel like a lie. He could say ‘there was pain but no, you didn’t hurt me’, which would maybe be more accurate, but he’s not sure Dean would understand. He’d probably just hear ‘pain’ and go silent with guilt.

“That’s good,” Dean says with a relieved smile. “Here’s hoping there’s nothing that’ll show over your shirt. Maybe keep your collar done up today, Jer.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care who sees.”

“You will care, when someone starts asking questions.”

“No I won’t. I’ll tell the truth, I’ll just say this big, wild Italian came to me in the night and he ravished me and wouldn’t let me sleep.” He grins at Dean, who groans and puts a hand over his face. So Jer carries on. “I’ll say, boy, he’s so beautiful and so strong and he picked me up and kissed me and he bit me like I was a little candy bar.” Dean’s smiling behind his hand now, and Jer lets his voice grow softer. “I’ll say he’s got a five o’clock shadow like sandpaper, this boy, and he schtupped me so good I can still feel it. I’ll say I’m crazy about him.” Dean grabs him then, pushes him over onto his back and kisses him hungrily, cradling his face in one big hand. 

Eventually the kiss slows down, calms, and Dean pulls away, rolling over onto his back while Jerry gets his breath back and settles onto his stomach again. He figures he might as well just say what’s on his mind. No point hiding things, not when things have gone this far. Because even though every bit of his body feels weak and he’s so, so tired, there’s something he needs to know for sure. Eyes at half mast, he says,

“Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night. I’m gonna… I’ll want you again. I will.”

“Y’will?”

“Mm-hmm. And the night after that. And after that.” He pauses and swallows hard. “So I was thinking Paul do you, uh, do you think, maybe, that tomorrow night you might… want me too?”

“Already want you now, Jer.“ Dean says. “Just keeping a lid on it, like a goddamn gentleman.”

Jer huffs a breathless little laugh. “Really?” Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. “We can be like this now, really?”

“Really.” Dean says, and Jer can see, he can absolutely see that _that_ is his very best friend in the whole world looking back at him, with his warm brown eyes. All the performances Dean gives on a daily basis have slipped away and left behind just the heart underneath, stripped. Dean smiles at him, and he smiles back.

“So, imagine it’s tomorrow night,” Dean says, settling a little closer. “How, uhh…” he glances down for second, actually looking a tiny bit shy. “I don’t think I’ve ever said this before. So, um. How do you want me?”

“Oh, I,” Jer pauses, momentarily caught off guard. “I mean, just, whatever you want to do, I…”

Dean lets his head roll a little closer still. “You must have something in mind, Jer. You always do. What is it?”

Jer swallows and closes his eyes. He does have something in mind. He wants to do the thing they did last night, he wants to do that again. But he can’t ask for it, it’s too embarrassing, too sentimental, he can’t just… oh.

Dean has placed one big, warm hand right in the middle of his bare back and started rubbing gentle circles there, firm and slow. Jerry exhales, feels the air leave his lungs and such a flood of contentment take its place. He lies still, just breathing, unable to say anything except,

“Mmmm.”

He feels more than hears Dean’s low laugh.

“Nice?”

“Mmm.”

“You know what? You don’t have to tell me what it is you want.” Dean’s hand is slowly moving further down his spine, fingertips brushing closer to his tailbone, setting that ache off all over again. “I think maybe I can guess.”

“Mmm?” Jerry is completely melted, Dean could ask him anything right now and he’d sing like a bird.

“You think it’s too sappy, but I think you want to do it with my arms around you again, like before. To feel safe. I think you’ll want me holding you, tomorrow night.”

“Mmmm, yes. Please. In your lap.”

“Up in my lap again, yeah.” 

Jer nods and gives another deep sigh.

“You like it there, huh?” Dean keeps rubbing circles.

“Mm-hmm.”

“You won’t be too sore?”

“No, just. Ummm. Sensitive, a little. Maybe.” He smiles, eyes still closed, and arches his spine a tiny bit. “I really can still feel you.”

Dean drags a hand over his face and looks heavenward for a second. He pulls himself up, propping his weight on his elbows and looking down at Jer, still lying there on his front.

“You won’t be too tired?” Dean asks.

“You’ll hold me.”

“I will.”

“Move me just right.”

“Yes.”

“Make me come for you.”

“Jesus Christ, Jer,” he says, leaning over and burying his face in the back of his neck, gently biting his nape. “This boy's insatiable. Yes.”

“Mmm. Good.” With two cool fingers under his jaw, Jer guides Dean’s mouth around to his own and kisses him, deep and lazy.

After a minute or two, or three, Dean pulls back.

“Wait there,” he says.

“I ain’t going nowhere.”

Dean leans over the side of the bed, retrieving a couple pillows from the floor. He props them against the headboard, grabs Jer under his arms and reclines back against the pillows, in one smooth movement pulling Jer almost on top of him as though he weighs nothing at all. Jerry’s arms instinctively tuck in against Dean’s chest, while Dean’s hands fall to his back. Jer nestles his head into Dean’s neck and says,

“I like when you do stuff like that.”

“I know you do, that’s why I do it.”

Jer pauses for a moment, looks up and regards him with a thoughtful look. “You’re very good to me, Dino Crocetti.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, just looks at him with so much love that for a second Jer can’t quite believe it. He’s overwhelmed. He wants to do something soft and puppyish, something to bring them back to familiar ground. So, he leans over and licks the side of Dean’s face. He makes it really wet and gross and then looks very, very pleased with himself.

“Ugh!” Dean says. “Jer?”

“Yes bubbe?”

“Go to back to sleep now Jer.” Dean cups the back of Jer’s head in one hand and coaxes it down onto his chest.

“Okay bubbe.”

Dean laughs as Jer snuggles closer, laying down his head as his breathing slows, Dean’s heartbeat relaxed as a lullaby beneath him.


	14. Epilogue

The waitress is back. She sets two cups of coffee down on their table and then pushes a plate in front of Jerry on which is sitting an enormous glazed donut. She turns and bustles back to the counter, weaving expertly through the customers crowding the busy diner. Dean looks off over Jer’s shoulder, taking a long, slow drag on his cigarette and then doing that thing he always does when he’s thinking, where he pinches at his mouth and then looks down at his hand like there was a stray flake of tobacco there bothering him. There’s no tobacco there bothering him. Jer knows a Dean that doesn’t want to look him in the eye when he sees one.

“You remembered.” Jer says.

“Huh, what’s that now?”

“My donut, you remembered.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It's a good one too,” Jer adds, mouth full of the first bite. It really is very delicious. 

“What are you telling me for?”

“Soft,” he says. The corner of his mouth is starting to twist up, he can’t help it. “Real sweet. Tender, even.”

“This kid’s out of his nit-wit.” Dean says, turning his face out toward the crowd as though something desperately interesting is happening on the other side of the diner. But Jer can see he’s starting to smile too, even though he shoves the cigarette in his maw quick-sharp to cover it up. 

Jer smiles and lets his secretly sentimental partner off the hook. He munches through a good half of his donut in silence while Dean placidly smokes and takes sips of steaming coffee. He watches as Dean leans back against the worn red seat of their booth and finishes his cigarette, one arm stretched along the back. He looks peaceful, Jer thinks. And sleepy. And so lovely. Jer notices him frowning over at the coffee cup sitting next to his donut plate.

“What?”

“You hate coffee.” Dean says.

“You got that right, boy. I’m about to put so much sugar in this you could hang wallpaper with it.”

“So how come you ask for coffee?”

“Tired.”

“Oh.” Dean says. “ _Oh_. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I ain’t.” He grins over at Dean, not even caring that he’s probably got dough in his teeth. Dean’s expression suggests that he has. They fall silent again, long enough for Jer to take a few more bites. He really is hungry.

“But you’re okay?” 

“I’m wonderful, bubbe. Never better,” he smiles at Dean properly this time, holding his gaze, “honest.”

“Okay, good.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure. Like Lady Day says, I’m happy as a king.”

Jer beams, “okay good! That’s good.”

They go quiet again, but it’s a contented kind of quiet. Jer loads his coffee with overspilling spoonfuls of sugar and Dean looks on in mild horror, like he thinks Jer’s finally lost it completely. Jer sips his still-horrible coffee in between donut bites, while Dean thoughtfully swirls around the dregs in the bottom of his cup. Jer watches him, watches his downcast eyes with those thick black lashes. He thinks of the chiaroscuro portrait of Dean sleeping in the moonlight, the one that he saw in the tiny hours of this morning and that he hopes is going to stay in his memory for the rest of his life. 

He wants to lean across the table and kiss him, but even he knows they can’t do that here. Instead he plants his elbows on the table and leans closer to Dean

“You know, Paul,” he says conversationally. Dean looks up at him. “For a man who spends eighty percent of his life mute, you picked a hell of a time to start talking.”

“How do you mean?” Dean asks with a faint smile. Jer leans closer still, lowers his voice to a whisper.

“I still got _'that’s it baby, show me'_ ringing in my ears.” He draws back a little so he can look Dean in the eye. “Were you trying to kill me or something?”

____

“Jer!” Dean says, a soft laugh making his voice breathy. He lowers his gaze to the coffee cup again almost… no. Bashfully? Is it bashful? No, can’t be. But he’s smiling a small, private smile, and when he glances back up at Jer his eyes are even darker and even warmer than they were before. “Only a 'little death',” he says, “maybe.”

____

Jer bites his lip over an absolutely filthy grin while Dean clears his throat innocently and looks around, searching for the waitress and catching her eye almost immediately. _Almost as if she was already looking at him,_ Jer thinks wryly. _Ah well. Better get used to that little stab of jealousy, boy._ Dean, oblivious, gestures politely for a refill before turning back to Jer, looking more like his usual unflappable self. He’s pulling the pack of Luckies from his top pocket. 

____

“You got a light Jer?”

____

“No, I don’t because you’ve got it.”

____

“What? No I don’t”

____

“Yes you do! I gave you a light just before we came in here and you mopped it like you always do! Check your pockets.”

____

Dean pats down all his pockets in the most perfunctory way, till he hits the right hip and his expression suddenly changes.

____

“Well,” he says, pulling out a little silvery lighter and cradling it in his palm. “Would you look at that.”

____

“Told you.”

____

Dean pauses while he lights up, takes a drag, and exhales slowly, funnelling the smoke carefully away from Jer’s face. Jer wishes he wouldn’t.

____

“This isn't yours though.”

____

“What! You’re crazy. It’s mine, I lent it to you this morning.”

____

“No, I don’t think so.”

____

“It is mine! My dad gave it to me for my birthday!”

____

“Ah, I still don’t believe you.”

____

“Turn it over then, if you don’t believe me. Turn it over. There! See that engraving? What does it say right there?”

____

Dean squints at it comically. “Uh, J… J… L, it says.”

____

“See! J.J.L., that’s me right there.”

____

“Naw, this ain’t you. This is, uh… this is Jameson… Jacobini and Levitch. They were my attorneys the first time I got sued. Or was it the second?” He takes another drag, musing.

____

Jer laughs, reaches out across the table and makes a grab for the lighter but Dean’s too quick and drops it right back in his pocket. Before Jer can withdraw his outstretched arm Dean gently takes hold of his wrist, brings his hand down to the table and engulfs it in both of his own. 

____

“Silly,” Jer says, working his fingertips up underneath Dean’s cuff. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

____

“I don’t know,” Dean says around his cigarette, sounding genuinely at a loss as to what Jer should do with his cumbersome self. “Maybe you’ll just have to keep me.”

____

His thumb is stroking so gently across the pinked skin on the inside of Jer’s wrist, back and forth, back and forth and, oh, it tingles. Jer wants to hunch his shoulders up and squirm happily, partly from the idea of keeping Dean and partly from the little electrical charges his touch is sending shivering up his arm, he’s - 

____

“Uh, coffee?” The waitress says. She’s standing over them, one hip cocked and coffee pot poised. She’s looking at their hands. She’s looking confused. Then she’s looking at Dean, and then she’s smiling.

____

_Here we go,_ Jer thinks. _Now he’ll smile back and say something cute, and she’ll giggle and say something cuter, and it won’t mean anything but I’ll die quietly just a little bit._ He focuses on Dean’s tie and he thinks, _I tied that for him this morning. Me. I tied it, and I set it all nice beneath his collar, and I stroked his shirt to smooth it down although really I was just stroking his chest but he knew that and he let me do it anyway. And at first it looked wrong that he was even wearing clothes. And then I put my arms around his neck and he held me tight and kissed me, and somehow his hair got messed up so bad he had to straighten it out all over again._

____

Jer’s waiting for the cool air to hit his hand when Dean lets go of it, but it doesn’t come. It just doesn't. If anything, he squeezes harder.

____

“Excuse my little friend here,” Dean says, nodding toward Jer. “I get kinda nervous in crowded places and he has to take care of me.”

____

He smiles benignly up at the waitress, whose eyes widen as she looks between the two of them.

____

“Okay, buddy,” she says, refilling their cups so quickly that coffee sloshes down the sides; Jer didn’t even want another cup of the horrible stuff. “You fellas have a good day now.” A customer on the other side of the diner catches her eye and she gratefully flees. Dean grins at Jerry, and Jer shakes his head.

____

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

____

“What? I do get nervous in crowded places! You do take care of me.”

____

“Well I, I guess so.”

____

“Anyhow, where were we? Oh, yeah,” he releases one hand from Jer’s, leaving the other firmly in place. He takes the cigarette from his mouth and picks up his refreshed cup of coffee. “So, you gonna keep me Jer?” He takes a long drink of coffee, looking steadily at Jer over the rim of his cup.

____

Sometimes Jer wishes he could feel the big emotions without crying, he really does. It can be so embarrassing. But sometimes, like now, he really just does not give a damn. He wipes the back of his hand across his eyes,

____

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, Dino. I think I’ll keep you.”

____


End file.
